The Making of Heroes

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For a long moment, there was silence. The niece - Tavia - bent forward and became motionless. She had placed what she was carrying flat on her thighs and was gripping the front edge with both hands, the grasp so tight her knuckles were white.

Kzar had a surprisingly infectious grin. “I’ll bet” he said “you weren’t expecting that!”

“No, I wasn’t.” Spiker admitted. He shrugged helplessly. “So - tell me more.”

Tavia looked up, and seemed to be about to say something, but the street boss held out an imperious hand, and she subsided.

Kzar steepled his fingers, peering over them at Spiker. “I’ve heard,” his voice was challenging “that you have a keen mind.” In spite of himself, Spiker felt an upswell of pride. He did not notice - nor did Kzar - an exchange of glances and raised eyebrows between Tavia and Catman. “So,” Kzar continued “work it out.”

Spiker grinned; suddenly, this meeting had turned into a game. He said “You want me to use my ‘keen mind’ to to work out why I should babysit your niece on a Splice raid.” Tavia bridled at ‘babysit’ and again nearly spoke but thought better of it.

“Precisely.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then the deal’s off.”

“I haven’t said yet I’d take it.”

Kzar folded his hands on his lap. “Oh, you’ll take it Spiker. Remember: everyone has a price.”

For a moment Spiker nearly stood and walked out. But … he wasn’t committed yet, and curiosity is powerful, so …. “I’m not saying yes or no. I can still walk out.” He said, but Kzar merely shrugged.

Spiker c****d his head and frowned. “A question: why me? You don’t seem interested in how I survived the dead zone, so: why me?”

“I asked for you.” Tavia’s voice was quiet. “I asked Catman who was the best fighter, and he said you.” She glanced at Kzar. “Can we get on with this. It’s taking forever.”

Kzar didn’t reply. He seemed sunk in thought, staring at the floor. Tavia gave a small grimace and turned back to Spiker. Her gaze was challenging. “Well? Have you worked it out yet?”

She really was exasperating. The prospect of keeping her safe and out of trouble did not, really did not, appeal. “Raids are dangerous.” He made it a statement of fact “Anyone who needs babysitting shouldn’t be on one.”

“I don’t need babysitting!” Tavia spat the words out, her annoyance boiling over.

“No, but he thinks you do.”

Kzar suddenly spoke. “Tavia is all I have. She has to be kept safe. And that, Spiker Gomez, means you.”

Spiker folded his arms. “Yes, but it doesn’t say why she is going.” He reflected for a moment. “She must know something, something important and without her physically there, the raid would be certain to fail.”

“Very good.”

“So -” began Spiker, but Tavia was impatient and greatly irritated at the men talking about her as if she wasn’t there. She jumped to her feet.

“Oh, for tup’s sake!” She held out the thin black object in both hands. “This! This is what it’s all about!” Confident now she had his undivided attention, she went on: “this is the key to getting upside.” Now she seemed calm and in control. He wondered how much of her short temperedness was fake. She sat. “You’d better come round here.”

But Kzar was now taking a keen interest. He put up a hand. “Wait.” Spiker paused. “Once you’ve seen this,” Kzar continued “you’ll be committed.”

Immediately, without thinking, Spiker replied. “Yeah? And what if I’m not convinced?”

“Then - my friend - you won’t get out of here alive.” A chill had descended like fog into the room, and his face had become curiously blank and hard, a witness to who he was and what he had done. Of the men he’d had killed, of the lives destroyed. “So we must make things clear. We must come to an arrangement here and now.” He waited.

Eventually, Spiker nodded. “All right.”

“And if you take it on, you must understand Tavia is family. I have a future mapped out for her. If you come back without her I will hunt you down. And Hera. And anyone else important to you. And you will regret having ever been born.”

Spiker had been threatened many times, and with similar words, but in this small room, so abruptly filled with the scent of menace, he felt his heart go cold and fearful. He let out a long breath. “And if all goes well?”

Imperceptibly, both men relaxed. It was now time to make a deal.

Kzar said “Splice. One Splice.” A somewhat sour grin. “I told you everyone has a price. And for you, that is the chance to have a son. Or daughter.”

“And what if there’s no Splice?”

“A thousand creds.“ And when Spiker hesitated he added: “Spiker, this is the best deal you’re going to get.”

The truth of this caught Spiker in the gut. Had he been asked at the outset what he’d settle for as p*****t for a hazardous expedition, he would have said much of what was now being offered. The deal, like all good deals, gave each side near enough what they wanted. Kzar was right: everyone has a price.

Spiker lifted his hand. “Fair barter.”

Kzar responded, raising his arm. “Fair barter.”

The deal had been done. Spiker turned back to Tavia. “OK. Show me.”

With a strange, challenging grin, Tavia looked down and lifted the top half of the thin box, folding it back against the hinged edge. Her face became illuminated from underneath, casting her features into that of a ghost. Her voice dropped and grew almost reverential. “This is hundreds of years old. It was used by the engineers who built the cities.” She turned it round. Inside the lid Spiker saw a lit screen with drawings and diagrams.

After a short pause Tavia said “They called it a laptop.”